


švelnus

by foxontherun



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Hannibal, Bottom Hannibal Lecter, Cannibal tears, Caring Hannibal Lecter, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Hannibal Lecter Has Feelings, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, Hannibal is touch starved, Hannibal's Stupid Shiny Cannibal Heart Eyes, Like so much, M/M, Masturbation, Post-Canon: After the Fall, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Post-Fall (Hannibal), Praise Kink, Rimming, Service Top, Sleepy Cuddles, Soft Hannibal, Top Will Graham, Voyeurism, Will Graham Loves Hannibal Lecter, and deals poorly, cannibal nerd
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-03 06:08:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24320104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxontherun/pseuds/foxontherun
Summary: Soft Hannibal, anyone? Just some ficlets dwelling on my favorite cannibal muffin being all soft because he can, now, with Will by his side to make everything ok. Plus lots of smut. Will be adding tags as I add more drabbles. I'm taking prompts on this one!
Relationships: Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 43
Kudos: 286





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My kink is Will telling Hannibal he's beautiful, because clearly Hannibal doesn't ever hear that from anyone else, despite the fact that he IS, but though plenty of his past lovers have been flattering and praised his looks, they wouldn't use that word with him because his controlled and meticulous persona doesn't invite that kind of praise. So he's never heard it before. But Will SEES him, and sees his beauty and ugh my heart. Also, it seems like everyone else in this fandom shares my kink because it's in almost every fic, lol.
> 
> Also there will be cannibal tears.

The atlantic ocean makes for an icy coffin. Will hits the water with the warmth of Hannibal's arms around him, and then all is cold and dark. Flashes, then - Hannibal's arms hooked under his, dragging him across gritty sand. Hannibal's eyes wide and wet as the ocean, checking for a pulse, compressing his chest, and letting out a primal, wounded sound when Will retches a glut of foul water and sucks in air. Hannibal's knees hitting the sand, his face corpse gray and his eyes rolled back, showing whites threaded with red. His utter stillness, and the blood that seeps into the earth as dread seeps into Will's brain. Hannibal dissolves into a wave of crimson, and Will wakes up, shuddering and slimy with sweat, tears, and the bitter aftertaste of despair. 

He gets up and washes his face in the sink, changes into clean pajamas, and pads down the hall, hesitating at the door to Hannibal's room, pulling himself together, and knocks on the door.

"Will?" Hannibal's accent is thick with sleep. When Will pushes the door open, the moonlight frames a drowsy face, rumpled hair, and Hannibal's bare, strong shoulders. He has propped himself up on one elbow, and there is a tiny crease of concern between his brows. "Is everything ok?"

"Nightmare," Will is gruff with the remnants of sleep and agitation. He clears his throat. "Can I, ah," he gestures to the bed. They've never shared a bed before, but Will needs to be close to Hannibal at this moment. He needs to hear him breathing, living, emanating reassuring body heat. So embarrassment and trepidation have to take a backseat. He feels dark eyes on him, but Hannibal immediately shifts to give him space, and turns down the covers.

"Of course, Will," his eyes are soft and fond, and Will has to drop his gaze from the truth he sees in them. "You're always welcome."

Will awkwardly slides under the silky sheets and isn't surprised at how immediately his body relaxes. "Thank you," he murmurs in the semi-dark as he settles on his back, heavy eyelids tracing the molding on the ceiling. He can feel Hannibal shifting his weight next to him, and the man really does give off heat, like sleeping next to a campfire. Hannibal's breathing is slow and steady, but he's not yet asleep.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He ventures, voice low and gentle, soothing, not probing.

"Just want to sleep," Will replies, his voice becoming thick as he starts to drift off.

"Goodnight then, Will" is the last thing he hears before he tumbles into the most restful sleep he's had in years.

That is the first time Will sleeps in Hannibal's bed, but when he wakes up - feeling calm, peaceful, and utterly well rested - to the muted, domestic sounds of Hannibal preparing eggs florentine in the kitchen, he decides to return the next night, and the next, and Hannibal never says a word about it. The covers are always turned down when he gets there. They smell like Hannibal - like his oakmoss and black amber soap, his oud wood and vetiver aftershave, and his own, natural aroma, and Will slightly resents how much he wants to roll around in it until he's covered in Hannibal's gorgeous essence, a heady, sensual feeling that Will is trying resolutely not to succumb to. He's conflicted by his desire to be as close as possible to this man who so enthralls and captivates him, but who he still isn't entirely comfortable trusting, despite all he knows. And he _knows_. Bedelia confirmed it for him, but by this point Will would have to be fossilized and buried under a mile of rave dirt not to see the sheer depth and magnitude of Hannibal's love for him. Hannibal watches him with a sort of awed reverence that borders on spiritual. He wakes up every morning and makes them breakfast and always has Will's coffee ready just the way he likes it. He sits in the evening with a sketchpad and draws Will as a number of historical characters - mostly heroes and saints - or plays Will's favorite songs on the grand piano, but softly, so he doesn't disturb Will's reading. And he watches Will as much as he can get away with, mostly when he thinks Will isn't aware of him doing so. And sometimes his gaze shifts from reverence to something darker - something with heat, and teeth. 

So Will vacillates. He can no longer deny that his feelings for Hannibal are a complex mixture of captivation, love, obsession, lingering doubt, betrayal, heartache, and, yes, real, aching sexual desire. He doesn't find the concept that his lifelong stretch of heterosexuality is at an end as worrisome as the fact that it is Hannibal fucking Lecter who has shifted his Kinsey score one giant notch. They've caused each other so much pain to achieve this fragile detante, and he's wavering on the last step of their becoming. But _fuck_ , does he want Hannibal. And now there is more touching between them than there has ever been. It's perfectly innocent, just a hand on a shoulder, or a brush of fingers against the small of a back. In bed, Will sometimes brushes the hair out of Hannibal's eyes as the man settles down for sleep, receiving a soft, drowsy smile that shows in the crinkles of his eyes and makes Will's chest ache, just a little. It's comfortable and devastatingly domestic and real.

That must be why he's traded his nightmares for dreams of a far more pleasant variety.

He's turned on the shower and realizes that he left the new body wash and loofah (gifts from Hannibal that had materialized on his side of the bed one afternoon without fanfare or comment) in the bedroom, so he darts out to grab it, towel slung around his waist, and stops dead in the doorway, his entire face flushing a deep, searing scarlet. Hannibal is lying sprawled elegantly on the bed, lazily stroking his hard cock through the soft fabric of his pajama bottoms. His head is tipped back, eyes closed, his mouth slack with pleasure, and there's a gorgeous peach flush slashing across his cheekbones and down his throat as he tugs his pants down and frees his cock to lie against his stomach, thick and hard and wet at the tip. He uses one hand to smear precome down his length and brings the other up to pinch at one nipple, and the soft sound of pleasure he makes unfreezes Will's brain, as a golden bolt of heat streaks through his spine to settle molten hot in his belly. His cock aches, painfully rigid under his towel, and he's rooted to the spot, watching as Hannibal takes two fingers in his mouth and sucks and laps on them greedily, while his hips start to roll as he begins fucking up into his fist, letting out shuddering breaths and moans and rolling his shoulders in pleasure. Will knows he shouldn't be watching this - it's a vulgar invasion of privacy - but he can't look away, can't even bring his hand down to relieve some of the agonizing pressure from his throbbing cock. Hannibal brings his wet fingers down to between his legs, and then, without opening his eyes, he growls out "Would you rather join me? Or would you prefer to watch?"

And Will wakes up on an inhaled breath. He becomes aware of a few things immediately. First is the fact that Hannibal is sleeping with his back to him, breathing deeply and slowly, and hasn't been woken by Will's sudden surfacing into consciousness. And second, and much more mortifyingly, is that he, Will, has managed to spoon up against Hannibal sometime in the night, and as a result, his painfully hard erection is pressed firmly into Hannibal's plush backside. Will sends a mental curse to god and his fucked up life, deliberates bursting into tears, but decides instead to try and creep out of bed without waking Hannibal, and go take care of his problem in the bathroom. This he manages, surprisingly, to do, standing under the hot water and picking up the dream where it left off, fucking into Hannibal's tight wet heat while the other scrapes sharp teeth across his nipples and bites down on the crook of his neck as he comes untouched, clenching around Will as he tumbles after, filling Hannibal with his seed, muffling his groan against the inside of his elbow, weak at the knees.

He really needs to make a fucking decision before something breaks inside of him.

When he returns from the shower, freshly scrubbed and smelling of mandarin and cypress (he'll be the first one to admit the man has exquisite taste), Hannibal is tugging on a finely woven navy cable knit sweater over his loose, dark grey pajama pants, exposing a little slice of soft belly and sharp hipbones that make Will's mouth water before he hurriedly turns away to start opening drawers. He doesn't see Hannibal's amused look as he smooths down his sweater and passes by on his way to the kitchen, tossing a "good morning, Will," over his shoulder, with "Have a pleasant shower?" following him out of the room and leaving Will bobbing in its wake.

_Ok_ , Will thinks. _Ok_. 

After a completely civil breakfast, Will goes out to work in the garden and make some repairs around the house while Hannibal, whose wounds were much more severe and is still on painkillers, alternates between cleaning, cooking, napping, reading, and playing the piano - always songs that Will has mentioned enjoying. Thus, he puts away Bartok, Dvořák and Mahler and focuses on Debussy, Mozart, Rachmaninoff and Chopin. Today he chooses Rachmaninoff - Piano Sonata N. 2, which Will had listened to a few nights ago, stretched out on the sofa with a finger of the good whiskey Hannibal had stocked the bar with, utterly relaxed and cozy and at home. And Hannibal had watched him melt under the softness of the blankets and the alchemy and beauty of the music. "What is this?" He has asked, circling behind Hannibal seated at the piano bench to watch the man's long fingers trip across the keys. Strong, precise, capable, steady hands.He had leaned over Hannibal's shoulder to read the music, and run a hand through the man's soft, wheat-colored hair without really thinking. After a slight pause, and a particularly tricky musical phrase, "It's Rachmaninoff," Hannibal breathes.

He wouldn't be opposed to that happening again. He knows that he must be patient with Will, to give him space to figure out what exactly he wants with Hannibal. And, in truth, even if soft touches were all he were ever going to get, he would consider himself blessed. Just to have will by his side, to have him near, to know and to be known, and to have Will stay - it's more than he's _dreamed_ of. 

However, the events from this morning point to intriguing possibilities. Hannibal had feigned sleep as Will rutted against him, and he could almost swear that his name had been mumbled by those beautiful pink lips in a rather ardent tone, And then there was the way Will had snuck furtively to the bathroom, and had left behind the sharp scent of semen which Hannibal had no trouble detecting under the smells of Will's new delicious body wash. So. Maybe Will just needed a little nudge in the right direction. He was clearly attracted to Hannibal, he wanted Hannibal, and Hannibal wanted to hollow out a place inside Will where he could crawl inside and make a home. He wanted to torture Will with exquisite pleasure, to take him apart with sensation and adoration, to show him how much Hannibal cherishes him, what a truly extraordinary man he is, what a radiant and terrible monster he is, just like Hannibal. Just like his mate.

When Will tromps in an hour before dinner, he's dirty and sweaty and grinning as he dumps his boots by the door and drinks down the tall iced sweet tea that has magically appeared on the counter with just the right southern down home taste. He catches Hannibal's eye and sends him a thumbs up, and the smile he gets in return takes not just years but decades off Hannibal's face, and Will is once again blindsided by the man's beauty. He manages a smile in response and heads to shower.

Tonight, he promises himself. It doesn't have to be much, ,just a kiss _(who are you kidding graham, once that mouth is on you it's no holds barred.)_ So he makes an effort to look nice for dinner while Hannibal makes cooking into a precision dance routine and decorative art form, plating the sole meunière with a drizzle of parsley oil and roasted medallions of root vegetables - parsnips and purple carrots and beets and radishes, all caramelized and drizzled with honey, balsamic reduction, and fleur de sel. They sit face to face, and Will eats, while Hannibal watches his face sink into pleasure for the food before taking his first bite. Sometimes they eat in companionable silence, today there is a little small talk about what still needs to be done around the house and what more needs to be planted in the garden. As dinner draws to an end, Hannibal announces his intention to go outside to watch the meteor shower and asks will to join. Will brings the sinfully good whiskey that appeared in the home bar one day, and Hannibal brings another bottle of wine, a thick soft blanket, and drags a cushioned bench outside. Will flops down on one end, Hannibal on the other, and they sit in comfortable silence, watching the cosmos turn and drinking. And at one point, possibly after his third whiskey, Will stretched out and rested his feet in Hannibal's lap. Hannibal mirrored the move so that they were comfortable. And then, Hannibal began to stroke his thumb along Will's ankle. Very gently, and soothingly, rubbing soft circles around the bone, and then down, to massage the tops of the feet while his arches got a firmer touch that made Will moan and drop his head back.

"Does that hurt, Will?" Hannibal's fingers stilled. 

"No, no keep going" Will was practically boneless by this point. "It feels incredible. So good."

The foot massage managed to be both erotic and deeply physically pleasant, so that by the end, and after another drink, Will was comfortable and lubricated enough to turn around and rest his head in Hannibal's lap. The slight sharp intake of the taller man's breath he didn't notice, so warm and comfortable and held and loved was he. "Tonight's the night" he thought to himself, before slightly weaving his way to their bedroom and falling asleep the minute his head hit the pillow. Hannibal followed him in, and grinned at his beloved's snoring form.

"Courage from a bottle was never going to be the answer," he tutted. "I want you to come to me willingly, of sound mind, capable of making your own decisions. And I will wait until that happens. I know you love me, my dearest, and I know now that you desire me as I desire you. It is but a small facet of intimacy, considering the intimacy we have already shared. And I can guarantee you that when you finally give in to your desires, I will make it an experience worthy of the moment and worthy of you." Hannibal chuckles, sets a bottle of water and gatorade next to Will's side of the bed along with bottles of Advil, Tylenol, and Aleve (Will's preference for aspirin really needs to be discussed.) Then he strips off his shirt and climbs in beside Will, unable to resist the urge to run long fingers throuh his silky curls. He really is magnificent. A sculptor's David turned flesh.

Hannibal drifts off to sleep.

Will, dear Will, is kneeling in front of him in the shower, licking at the head of Hannibal's uncut cock which bobs thick and pulsing between them. Then, without warning, Will swallows him all the way down until his nose touches Hannibal's pubic hair, shoving Hannibal's cock straight down his throat, no gag reflex in sight, and Hannibal's head drops back with a low growl as he begins to thrust into his beloved's mouth, keeping a tender hand carding through his curls, scratching lightly at his scalp and earning him Will's full body shiver. Will kept up a brutal pace, hollowing his cheeks, until he released Hannibal's throbbing, pulsing cock with an obscene pop, and was getting into position on all fours, when Hannibal is rudely torn out of sleep by his cellphone ringing. He realizes two thins in rapid succession. The first thing is that Will is most definitely awake right now. The second thing seems to be that Hannibal has gravitated towards will in the night and is now pressing his very hot, very wet, very hard cock against Will's hip.

But Hannibal isn't one to lose composure, and doesn't believe in embarrassment or shame. He simply rolls over and swings his legs off the bed. "I do apologize for making you feel awkward," he states, cool as ever. "Merely a fact of biology with its unerring poor timing. I'm going to go shower and - " Hannibal's words are cut off in shock as Will reached out to grab his hand to keep him in bed. "No," he said. "I want you to do it here, and I want to see you.


	2. Jų tapimas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Big step forward for these nerds - physical intimacy ceding of control, seeing one another and loving the monster within them both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor cannibal baby lives his whole life believing that no one will ever love or accept the real him

Will's words force a sharp inhale as Hannibal slowly slides back into bed, on top of the sheets. He's shirtless, which gives Will a good view of his powerful shoulders and arms, the slight softness of his belly a testament to Hannibal's controlled hedonism and refusal to stint himself when it comes to pleasure and the pursuit of beauty. As Hannibal divests himself of his pants, he stretches languidly, showing off his long, dancers legs and the flex of his thighs. He is not a man who feels self conscious about is body, and for good reason. He is, simply put, beautiful. The kind of beauty that transcends comparisons. And Will wonders if people have ever told him so.

"You're beautiful, Hannibal," his voice is low, husky, and uneven. I want to watch you get yourself off in whichever way would bring you the most pleasure. And I want yo to tell me what you're fantasizing about. And after that, I'll choose my favorite fantasy and join you. Hannibal lets our a hitched breath at that, already rigid against his stomach, slick strands of precome connect from his cockhead to his belly. He focuses his eyes on Will and begins to stroke himself, takin his time, obviously reveling in the sheer erotic sensation of each touch, each swipe of his palm over the glistening red tip. He runs his other hand across his chest, threads fingers through his hair and tugs, hard enough to bring tears to the corners of his glinting red eyes. His moan, not muffled this time, shoots straight to Will's cock as he imagines yanking Hannibal forwards on his cock, provoking that same wanton moan.

Hannibal is more obviously effected now, his grip tighter, his breath coming in ragged pants, as he fondles his scrotum and reaches underneath. And Will realizes that he's not spoken a word, so he heaves himself off his chair, lets his robe slide from his shoulders, and prowls over to Hannibal's side of the bed, dipping down low so that he's speaking into the doctor's ear.

"What did I tell you?" He hisses, enclosing Hannibal's earlobe in the wet heat of his mouth, and pressing down with his teeth just enough to make Hannibal moan and try to capture Will's mouth in a kiss. "Ah ah," his expression smug and hazy with arousal. "I want you to tell me what you're fantasizing about. **Now** , Hannibal."

Hannibal's hand has slowed a bit on his cock, using his wetness to take his time to enjoy the sensations. "I'm thinking of you, Will. About having your hands slap mine out of the way so that I can focus on stretching myself, making myself ready to receive you into my body, and how good it will feel to be so stretched and full to have a part of the man I _love_ inside me. And I'm thinking of you dominating me, pinning my arms with the strength of your upper body. How deceptively strong you are, beloved, you hold treasures inside that no one will ever see but me."

Hannibal's breathing is growing increasingly shallow and erratic as he begins to stroke his cock while buried two knuckles deep inside his hole, and, being a doctor, he knows just where to -   
  
"o, brangusis dieve! O šūdas! Will! You feel so incredible" Hannibal knocks his head against the headboard and is growling and moaning now, thrusting back to fuck himself on four fingers and then forward into the slick slide of his cock. "I'm wondering if you would let me stroke myself, or if you would keep stimulating my prostate until I came, untouched. Or maybe you wouldn't let me come just then, you'd make me take a shower and then suck me, drawing me just to the edge of orgasm and then pull back, gripping the base of my cock until you could start over again. How long do you think, Will, before I started to beg you. Would you let me, then? Or would you wait until I started to cry and plead and utterly debase myself?"  
  
  


Will has been sitting on a chair pulled up to the bed, allowing himself the pretense fo distance, but Hannibal's fantasy has shredded what remained of his self control. When those fathomless red eyes seek his out he can see and endless sea of pleasure spreading forwards from them both, he can see wanting, desire, love, possessiveness, fierce, fierce joy, and that same tender, cherishing look like Hannibal couldn't quite believe that Will was here, that Hannibal was loved, monster and all, and as Hannibal groaned and shuddered through his climax, Will stripped himself, got into bed, and gathered Hannibal in his arms, holding this beautiful monster, who looked around at him with tears streaking his cheeks, and he sees him, he sees him, this extraordinary, radiant man who thinks that no one could accept and love the beast inside the man, and he presses soft kisses against Hannibal's wheat colored hair, and lets Hannibal cry out his sorrow and his joy.  
  
"I'm never leaving you again," Will murmurs against Hannibal's hot cheek. "And I'm not letting anyone take yo away from me, either. If you died, I would die. If they tried to capture you, we'd go down fighting.Together. You're _mine_ , forever.

Hannibal makes a soft noise and finally looks at Will. His face is streaked wit tears, but he's smiling that same fond smile. "Oh Wll," he cups the younger man's face in one large hand. "I didn't dare dream that it could be like this for us. You are my only home. I had never dared to hope to find someone who would look at me and see beyond the walls to the monster caged within,," Hannibal's breath shook "and call it beautiful.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have a beta, and I split this into two chapters. The smut is up next, sorry for the delay!!

After Hannibal made use of the bathroom, he saunters back in wearing a low-slung towel and a smug little smile that Will very much would like to kiss off his face. His hair is wet, and dewy drops of moisture roll down his neck, invitingly suckable.

"I've been thinking," Will begins, but is thrown off course a little by Hannibal shedding his towel and scrubbing his face, naked as the day is long. "Hannibal!" This brings out a peek of innocent eyes and a guileless smile that is almost so good as to be believable. "You're, uh, you're being a little distracting. Put something on so we can talk." Here, Will walks to the bureau and draws out a navy cable-knit sweater and a pair of soft grey trousers that he's always liked the way Hannibal looks in. He throws them at Hannibal without looking, and resumes his seat on the bed.

After a minute of silence, he glances up, eyebrows screwed up in confusion. Hannibal seems to have....stalled, holding the clothing Will picked out for him. His eyes are shining the way they usually do when Will has done something particularly precious or violent, and Hannibal is overcome with pride and tenderness. But Will can't quite understand this one. "You...like it when I pick out clothes for you?" he asks, skeptical, and watches the water fly as Hannibal shakes his head.

"It's not something I can adequately vocalize," he murmurs, "something from early childhood perhaps? A memory, floating lonely and forgotten through my mind palace?" He shrugs, a bare, brief motion. "It doesn't matter. Suffice to say that I find surprising comfort in this simple exchange." He tugs on the sweater and trousers, and immediately looks like something supple and snug - a figure meant to be flooded with tender touches and quiet noises. Will clears his throat.

"Well, you can be surprisingly easy to please, I'll give you that," he flops back down on the bed, as Hannibal rests against the pillows, and hauls Hannibal's feet into his lap, softly stroking the fine, long bones he finds there. When he looks up, Hannibal's eyes have fallen half shut like a sleepy cat, and it brings a genuine smile to Will's face. "I've been thinking about what I want from this - from us, and what I need from it, too." He switched to Hannibal's other foot. "I'm going to need you to do some thinking, too, if you haven't already. I can't call all the shots in this relationship - for one, I've never been with a man before, but more importantly than that, I can count on one hand the number of successful sexual and romantic relationships I've had in my entire adult life. And I'm - I'm guessing you're far more experienced in that regard, so you'll have to do some of the heavy lifting."

Hannibal opens his eyes a little, and watches Will rubbing his feet. "I'm afraid I have to disagree with part of your thesis - specifically about my having more experience in successful relationships. Certainly I wouldn't argue that I've had far more sexual partners than you, probably more than you'd imagine, but none of my relationships has been, as you term "successful' for the simple fact that I was never able to reveal my true character to my partners. Most of the time I was using the relationship as a tool for manipulation or social cover, a number of times it was purely for aesthetic and erotic satisfaction, a few times even for intellectual and erotic satisfaction, but it was never an honest exchange of power. This will be my first attempt at that sort of partnership, simply because I have never felt this way about another human being in my adult life." He took a breath, as Will stared at him. "As for what I _want_ and _need_ , that is fairly simple. I want _you_ , in any way you are comfortable sharing life with me, for as long as we both remain alive. Romantically, sexually, as hunting partners, as life partners, as roommates and friends. As for what I _need_ , all I need is your presence with me, voluntarily and happily, for as long as I can get it."

Hannibal takes a breath and gives WIll one of his minimalist shrugs. "Does that answer your question?"

Will takes in a long shuddery breath. "Yes and no," he says, shaking his head minutely. "Asking someone what they want and having the answer be 'everything' is a little daunting. I want to give you some homework." Hannibal's mouth quirks up at him. "Take some time, every day, to think of one or two specific things that you want or need from me. Sexually, physically, intellectually, hell, it can be chores around the house or not stealing the blankets every night. Can you do that?" 

In answer, he's grabbed around the waist by a pair of strong arms, and hauled into a warm, melting embrace, cradled by Hannibal's body. "It is absolutely essential," Hannibal breathes into the rim of his ear, "that I be able to touch you at least 750% more often than current limits. I want to be able to touch you whenever I please, unless it would interfere in some task of your undertaking."

Will's body is too busy physically responding to the warmth and proximity and delicious scent of Hannibal to even begin to disagree. It is, in fact, the best idea he's heard in years. "Mmmm" he responds smartly, beginning to squirm as Hannibal drags his sharp teeth lightly down to suck on his earlobe. "But no cheating, ok Hannibal? It's not 'essential to your wellbeing' that I begin to enjoy that godawful modernist music by Schönberg and his buddies that sounds like people moving furniture in the apartment above us." Will can feel Hannibal's smile against his cheek.

"Well then, that goes both ways," Hannibal mutters against his skin, grasping curls between his fingers and tugging, and moving one hand down, so slowly, to touch bare skin. "It isn't essential to your wellbeing to avoid the opera at all costs then, either."


	4. Chapter 4

Unlike the previous nights, dawn is hardly breaking, pink and gold tinting Hannibal's bedroom a hazy shade when Will stirs, nose pressed into the side of Hannibal's neck, tucked up behind him, limbs tangled and loose, one arm laid across Hannibal's sleeping hip, unconsciously tugging him even closer before he's fully awake. _I'm spooning Hannibal Lecter_ , he thinks, half asleep and giddy with a quiet, rising joy tucking warm into his heart. _And I'm the big spoon._ He presses closer in to the warm, clean expanse of Hannibal's back, bringing his arm fully around the sleeping man's chest and gently rubbing his fingers through the soft hair there, moving as lightly as possible so as not to wake Hannibal, who makes a sleepy, snuffling noise and burrows into Will's side, pressing his plush backside into Will's groin, where his cock is fattening slightly from the feeling of so much skin and solid muscle against his own, and the firm, ripe give of Hannibal's ass providing a yielding, supple sort of pressure that isn't insistent, but a lazy cushion for him to press himself against in a slow, languid role, feeling no rush to do anything but watch the gold haze filter through the windows, the shadows quietly vanishing into a hazy wash, as he reveled in the sensual feeling of such slow rising, tingling arousal - every sense slightly hightened, the feel of soft skin, the rasp of chest hair under his fingers, the slow, even breaths of Hannibal's undisturbed sleep, and the fading traces of the scent of his expensive body wash, mixed now with Hannibal's own scent, something Will had no words to describe except that he smelled like home, and that Will drank it in until he was dizzy from that undeniable, magnetic feeling of their bond, reeling him in tighter and sinking into him until his bliss was almost overwhelming. He closed his eyes at the sudden urge to tug Hannibal closer, wrap his limbs around him and draw him into the sweet cage of his skin, trapping Hannibal in the only place he would be truly safe and free. Instead he rolled his hips forward again, slowly increasing the pressure on his cock, nestled more firmly now into the sweet cradle of Hannibal's flesh, and felt himself harden further, still reveling in the pace and glowing warmth spreading through him. As he relaxed his hips, brushing the tip of his cock against Hannibal's upper thigh and shivering at the silky touch, Hannibal stirred, and moaned softly and muffled with sleep, and shifted back to press against Will's hardness more firmly, still asleep but responding to Will's touch, three years of isolation leaving him sensitive and aching, even as his mind floated in the sheltered white static of sleep.

Will's soft glow sparked bright and hot and settled into his cock, fully hard now against the increased pressure of Hannibal's flesh, as his mind tipped him back to the previous day watching Hannibal stretch himself open and thrust his fingers greedily deep inside himself, and the unspoken promise that the next time it will be Will's fingers buried inside that tight heat, and then his cock, taken eagerly into Hannibal's body as he had already accepted him into his mind, his home, his hear, and his life. He bites the inside of his cheek at the mental image of bearing down and over Hannibal's shuddering body, chest pressed tight against his broad, strong back, sheathed fully inside him and feeling him clench and bear down. His hips began to buck a little faster as he imagined Hannibal offering up his body in this way to him, only for him would Hannibal shiver with vulnerable, desperate want and need, all his coiled power and iron restraint relinquished for something quivering and blossoming to Will's touch. The depth of Hannibal's love was a bottomless drowning pool of _want_ , and Will knew that it frightened Hannibal. to be laid so bare, so unlike the iron walls he had lived behind for his entire life. So different from the brutal, savage grace of his solitary contempt, looking down on humanity from the ramparts of his tower, ready to rent and tear and bite, easy in the knowledge that his was a seemingly limitless power and speed, strength and resiliency. Always untouchable and elevated.

Well, Will was touching him now, so hard from the heady rush of power to have this primal beast pressed soft and sweet against his rigid flesh, knowing that when he wakes up he will submit willingly to Will's desires, his commands, his hands. Knowing that the want and ache for him will leave him breathless and overwhelmed and that he is helpless against it, that he is Will's entirely and forever now, only Will'a, and Will knows that he is never going to stop rewarding that devastating love by cradling his light like the precious gift it is, that he wants to spend the rest of his life filling Hannibal's want with praise and pleasure and glut him with Will's own flood of love and possession. The intensity of his pang of affection is a deep ache in Will's chest as he nuzzles the fine hairs at the back of Hannibal's neck and inhales, feeling him begin to shift towards waking, his lax body gathering life like a charging battery, making a low pleased low purr deep in his chest as Will rolled his hips again, more forcefully, pressing deeper into the cleft of Hannibal's ass, feeling his cock pulse at the way Hannibal presses back purposefully this time, and wetting his pajama pants with a dribble of pre-come as Hannibal arched his neck to face him more fully, his eyes shiny and so, so warm, and smiled at him - not the eye=crinkle micro-expression of years past, but something wide and open, softening the planes of his face and briefly transforming him into something incandescent and breathtaking.

"Morning Hannibal," Will murmurs, now leaning in to nuzzle against Hannibal's forehead, his cheek, to gently rub noses, and then to press his lips against Hannibal's, who melted into him almost immediately, delicately taking Will's lower lip between his own and sucking, causing Will's cock to twitch against him as he moaned and tightened his grip, licking into Hannibal's inviting mouth and feeling him open to him like a flower, all hot wet tongue and the faint threat of teeth as Will ground against him more insistently, his straining cock pressing deeper and deeper between Hannibal's cheeks as he rutted against him, until he felt the tip catch slightly on Hannibal's rim, and Hannibal was twisting in his arms and groaning, fucking his tongue into Will's mouth and then pressing his own hardness against Will's thigh as he dragged his open, wet mouth down Will's neck and sucked his pulse point, and trailed his tongue lower, down Will's neck before taking one of his nipples into his mouth and sucking, rolling his tongue and nipping lightly with this teeth. Will had never really had a lover pay much attention to this part of his body before, and he was caught unawares by the arc of heat that shot straight to his cock, and he arched involuntarily up, letting out a shocked groan,. 

"Jesus, Hannibal," he panted, as Hannibal teased the now stiff nub with his teeth, and switched to the other one, biting harder this time, and Will cried out, bringing one hand to tangle in Hannibal's hair, tugging sharply as the pain receded into a molten pleasure, and Hannibal moaned around him at the tug of Will's fingers, his hips bucking hard against Will's thigh as he soothed the hurt with broad, wet strokes of his tongue. Will was very close by this point, his hips shifting restlessly against Hannibal's belly, and he could feel by Hannibal's ragged breathing and the slight tremors running through his hands as they stroked down will's sides and swept along the inside of his thighs that Hannibal wasn't going to last either, so Will decided on a change of plans. He could fuck Hannibal that night - hell - he could fuck him at lunchtime too, but for now he just needed to come, even with the pressure of Hannibal's skin against the drag of his ache was growing into something desperate. He arched his head back, panting, as Hannibal teased him with sweeping touches, his hands seemingly everywhere except where Will needed them. He was about to direct Hannibal to take them both in hand, when Hannibal stopped and gazed up at him through a fringe of silver hair, his hands stilled on Will's hips.

"May I taste you?" he rasped, closing his eyes briefly. "I've thought about it many times."

Will's breathing hitched at this request and confession. "Yes," he whined out, "Oh God, fuck, Hannibal, put your mouth on me."

Hannibal didn't linger. He snaked down the rest of Wills' body and hooked his briefs over the obscene just of Will's hardness, and slid them down and off before settling himself between Wills' thighs. Will's cock lay rigid and stiff against his belly, flushed an angry-looking red and leaking copiously all over his lower belly. Hannibal's mouth watered, and he bent down to press his tongue firmly against the underside and lick a broat, flat stripe from base to tip, before talking him fully into his mouth. Will was making a constant stream of noises now, low whines and harsh pants that caused Hannibal's cock to pulse in sympathy as he swallowed him down, hollowing his cheeks and keeping a constant pressure with his tongue. 

"Oh." Will whined. "Oh fuck, Hannibal," And Hannibal felt a slick of pre-come swell into his mouth as he slid up again to focus on swirling his tongue around the head, and then sank down again, this time letting the head of Will's cock bump against the back of his throat. His eyes watered briefly, but it was worth it for the way Will wouldn't keep still, his hands clutching blindly at the bedsheets, his pale chest having, and only Hannibal's hands pressing him down preventing him from fucking up into Hannibal's mouth. Hannibal would enjoy that, he thought, but not this first time. The next time he slid up and bobbed back down, he let Will's cock squeeze past and slide down his throat until his nose was flush with Will's belly, holding him there. Will had cried out, louder than before, when he felt Hannibal take him down entirely, and he now turned wide, pleading eyes on him.

"Oh please. Oh please." He begged, mear;y incoherent, and Hannibal look mercy on him, bobbing up and down faster, sliding his tongue against the throbbing vein on the underside of Will's cock, and Will's broken begging was fiinally too much for him, filled as he was with Will's scent and taste, the weight and pleasing heft of him sliding so easily now, drenched in pre-come and Hannibal's saliva, that Hannibal had to reach inside his pants and start fisting his own aching cock, which was almost equally wet. and he didn't bother with finesse, just stroked his dripping cock fast and hard, bucking his hips into his fist with helpless jerks, as he watched Will begin to fall apart, Hannibal's expert mouth working him faster and tighter as he watched Will's whole body shudder.

"Hannibal, I'm gonna-" Will choked out, and then he was shouting, his whole body a taught wire that pulled tight, plucked, and then shook as he shot several heavy pulses of come into Hannibal's mouth, and he was still making noises as he emptied himself, tensing up a few more times in the shocky aftermath of minor bolts of pleasure. Hannibal filled his mouth with Will;s taste, and his hips began to stutter as he followed Will over, coating his fist with come and moaning loudly around Will's cock, continuing to stroke himself through the last of the pleasure that had hit him hard and fast like am earthquake, and he released Will's cock as he started to relax, the intensity of his orgasm making him feel slightly shaky and faint. He lay his head on Will's hip, and concentrated on evening out his breathing, as Will, who was boneless and hazy with pleasure beneath him carded gentle fingers through his hair, lightly scratching his scalp with one hand, while the other stroked soothing touche, feather-light, over hisi brow and cheekbones. Finally Hannibal felt himself return to his body, and Will must have sensed him relaxing, because the hand in his hair hightened briefly.

"Get back up here," hr murmured, and Hannibal lifted himself yp the length of his body and cradled up close against him, his face buried in the crook of his neck, scenting him and sighing with deep contentment, Will's arms gathered him a little tighter, and he stroked Hannibal's back as they lay together in silence, breathing the same air and feeling the same swelling of their hearts towards one another. It was now fully morning and hte sun was up, but neither of them moved for a long, long time. Instead, they shared a heartbeat and began the lifelong journey of mapping each other's skin with nothing but the softest of touches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well shit this fic is making me feel things


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal feels ALL the things. Will is there for him. Plus, anal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate that Mads is self conscious about his adorable belly - that's basically where this comes from. Mads should feel nothing but happiness and self love over his totally unbelievable body and personality, and his little tum is my favorite part!
> 
> Also, at some point there is gonna be murder art and some feral Hannibal in here just because Will fell in love with THAT version of Hannibal just as much as he loves soft Hannibal. Don't worry, it'll be fluffy as possible, and isn't in this chapter.

The sun has reached its apex when Will finally stirs, not at all surprised to find Hannibal's side of the bed empty and cool, the sheets smoothed out. Will could almost close his eyes and pretend nothing had happened between them, if not for the lingering scent of sex and sweat in the air. He hears familiar sounds of cutlery rattling in the kitchen, and drops his feet heavily out of bed, feeling thoroughly sated and peaceful as he nudges on a pair of Hannibal's pajama pants and pads barefoot into their open plan kitchen and living space. Hannibal's back is to him, and he's wearing a tight (very tight) grey t-shirt - his shoulder muscles roll like waves underneath it, and suddenly Will is less interested in lunch. He scoots up behind Hannibal, who has gone still and silent, and wraps his arms around the man's soft belly, nuzzling against the warm back of his neck and sighing contentedly.

"It's not fair," he numbles against Hannibal's skin. "How you can look so gorgeous in everything - t-shirts, suits, pajamas, sweaters, your own skin. I'm tempted to buy you a pair of orange crocs and a mesh shirt just to experiment."

He can feel a small outtake of breath around his arms - Hannibal's version of a chuckle, before the man twists so that they're face to face, and Will is surprised, not to say alarmed, at how serious Hannibal looks. And how sad.

"What's not fair, Mylimasis," Hannibal speaks as though having to shove the words out. "Is that you have conjoined yourself to a man who is getting older, and softer." He shoots a furtive look at his belly, where their hands are still linked. "It's not fair that in a few fleeting decades I will truly be an old man, and you still in the prime of life, I will no longer be able to satisfy you, and you'll come to resent being tethered to me." His eyes slide up to Will's and then glance away, expression miserable.

Will is utterly taken aback. Hannibal voicing his insecurities is one thing, but that he ever thinks Will will leave him for something so...so utterly irrelevant to what they share?

"Hannibal," he takes the taller man's stubbled jaw in on firm hand and forces eye contact ( _role reversal much - his brain supplies_ ), "You are everything to me. Not just your body, not just your capabilities - you, as a person. You always will be. If you were in a coma, I would spend every day sitting by your side and still love you just as much. I'm _never_ leaving you. How could you _think_ such a thing?"

Hannibal ducks his head, as Will watches two tears spill down their tracks. "You're just so beautiful," he finally manages after moments of silence. "I don't feel worthy of the beauty of all that you are."

Will feels his heart twist. "You are the _only_ one worthy of all that I am", he says, pressing closer and tipping Hannibal's chin up to lay a chaste, lingering kiss on his soft lips. They taste like salt, and rich coffee. He presses his body more forcefully into Hannibal's, relishing the broad strength of his chest, the sinewy muscles of his upper arms, the lean power of his thighs, and his long finely-boned legs. But Will's favorite part of Hannibal's body is, in fact, the part the older man had been grimacing at a few moments earlier - that slight softness and push of his belly, like a treasure that is bared for Will alone. The sight of that ripe plushness in contrast to Hannibal's extremely lean, firm, athletic body was extremely erotic to Will - not to mention endearing. And he hated that Hannibal didn't love every inch of himself as much as Will did.

"Let's eat lunch," he decided, placing another sweet kiss on those soft red lips, "and then I'll show you. I'll show you how gorgeous I find you, and what you do to me."

He eased into a kitchen chair, watching Hannibal visibly reign himself in until his face showed no trace of its earlier distress, and spent the rest of the meal preparations watching the firm muscles of Hannibal's back and forearms as they kneaded and plated, with unguarded lust.

Hannibal was uncharacteristically quiet during breakfast, which Will took to mean he hadn't quite absorbed Will's words, or doubted them somehow. Will sometimes marveled at how someone who could be so smug and self-congratulatory and confident could simultaneously hold such a low opinion of his own appeal, beyond mere surface considerations, but he hadn't been a profiler for nothing. This was fairly textbook narcissism - that unbreakable facade of confidence and self congratulation was a powerful shield against the depth of self loathing that lay underneath. Will didn't know the exact circumstances surrounding Hannibal's childhood trauma, just puzzle pieces, but he could guess at the magnitude and shocking loss of control Hannibal must have felt, to build these walls and battlements. It was true that what had happened to him wasn't responsible for what he turned into, but events shape us, and whatever happened had forced Hannibal into choosing a life utterly without emotional connection, much less love, out of fear of loss, and out of the bone-deep conviction that he wasn't worthy of love in any event.

Will was going to have to be patient while they dealt with both their old wounds together. It was his priority, now, that both he and Hannibal heal mentally as well as physically, so they could enjoy their happiness without major incident (without bloodshed, to be more precise.) After Hannibal had finally set down his spoon, he reached over and threaded his fingers to tug both of them into a standing position.

"Bed," he rasped. "Now." Hannibal stood for a moment, eyes dark and unreadable, and then swiftly turned heel and headed for their bedroom. Will followed close behind, and the minute the door was closed, he crowded Hannibal against the wall, tugging his hair so that his throat was exposed and licking at his pulse point before biting down - not gently. Hannibal let out a gasp, and his arms finally came up to grip Will's shoulders, then slide up his neck as he buried his hands in Will's curls.

"So beautiful," he sighed, but Will cut him off. 

"No," he said firmly. "No talking. Only I get to talk during this. Can you manage that, do you think, or should I gag you?" Hannibal's hips jerked against Will's, and he could feel the taller man's cock start to harden against his stomach. "You like that idea," he mused with a twisted smile. "You like it when I take control," Hannibal opened his mouth at this and Will "tsk'ed" him like he would one of his pack. He could see the beginnings of a flush on his cannibal's cheeks - whether from submissive shame or arousal or both, he couldn't say. He knew exactly what he wanted to do with Hannibal at this moment, and it didn't involve listening to poetry about his own body. Will has never been much of a poet, but he's very, very capable of fixing things with his hands.

"On the bed, face up," he commands, and Hannibal doesn't hesitate once. He lays amongst the rumpled sheets, cheeks pink, chest heaving with ragged breaths, and Will is once again struck by how unearthly and unique his beauty is. He looks like a pagan god, or some elemental force chained within flesh. Will crawls over him. "I wish you could see you as I do," he breathes into Hannibal's ear as he tugs off his shirt. "Powerful, elegant, dangerous, just one blink away from that lithe, lightning-quick motion I've seen you capable of." He takes a deep, shuddering breath. "It's sexy as hell, Hannibal, you're sinfully erotic in everything that you do."

Hannibal makes a little soft sound in his throat that encourages Will. He drags his mouth down to Hannibal's, and indulges in a messy, open-mouthed kiss, where he strokes his tongue over those wickedly sharp teeth. "I used to imagine these teeth biting me," he confides, suckling on Hannibal's bottom lip. "Even before I knew what you were. They just hint at a sensation I found it hard to stop thinking about." He released Hannibal's mouth, and smiled fondly as the man tried to chase his lips. "Hey, hey" he said soothingly, "I'm still on your face and there's the rest of you to get to before I fuck you." Hannibal shut his eyes and mouth tight at this, and Will could feel him throb against his thigh. "Maybe," he whispered, "when _you_ fuck _me_ , I'll ask you to bite as much as you want." Hannibal's eyes snap open at this, his pupils blown into nothing, black swallowing up his eyes and his mind. He lets out a moan. "That's right darlin'," Will coos, "don't hide your noises from me. I wanna hear what I'm doing to you.

He continues down Hannibal's neck to his shoulders, digging his thumbs into the corded muscle there and relishing Hannibal's groan. "I love your shoulders," he murmurs between soft nips of his teeth, "they're deceptively strong to anyone who isn't looking at them bare, who can't see these lines," he traces the muscle definition from Hannibal's shoulder to his forearms. "You have the ideal amount of strength and muscle - not showy and gauche, just enough to be able to shock anyone who tries to cross you. You're deceptive in your deadliness, my love," He hears Hannibal hitch a breath out. He can sense it's becoming difficult for the taller man to keep still and not seek friction for the erection that is jutting against his silk and jersey pajamas. But Will wants to do this right. "It's ok," he says, turning over each forearm and licking a stripe down the prominent vein there, ending up by kissing each palm, "because I know. I know how you seem almost beyond human in your stamina, your speed, your agility, your hunger, and your love." He moves down, kissing and petting through Hannibal's chest hair. "I love how utterly different your chest is from mine," he confides. "I love having something to grab onto and tug. He moves lower. "I love how strong your core is, partially from swimming, at a guess, but also from lugging around dead weight." He smiles up at Hannibal and catches the man watching him with glazed eyes, mouth slightly open, panting for breath. Then he dives back in and rubs his face all over the slight pudge of Hannibal's belly, feeling him tense underneath him. "But this is absolutely my favorite part of you," he says, and looks up just in time to stare Hannibal down from making a comment. "I'm not humoring you, Hannibal, and I'm not placating you. Your slight soft underbelly makes my mouth water. Your body would be stunning regardless, but this is just like the very best cherry on top - a beautiful contrast to where the rest of you is hard and lean. It feels good to touch - Will lets his fingers sink in a little before rubbing in soothing circles - "and it's so arousing and kissable-" he kisses softly just under the belly button, and Hannibal moans in earnest. When Will looks up Hannibal is staring back at him with wide, wet eyes filled with ineffable fondness. Hannibal opens his mouth, then shuts it.

"You may speak," Will allows, dipping lower to nuzzle Hannibal's pubic hair.

"I, ah, I want you in me, Will," Hannibal gasps out. "Please." Will grins against Hannibal's pajamas - wet now, his cock straining at the front placket.

"But I haven't even started on your cock, your ass, your thighs, or your legs yet," he pretends to complain. He feels a light swat on his shoulder.

"Insufferable thing," Hannibal growls. "Fuck me, Will." And then more plaintively, "Please, Will, I want to feel you inside me, I want you to come inside me."

How can Will say no to that, especially with the way the word 'fuck' sounds bitten out through Hannibal's thickened accent?

"Fuck, yes," he breathes, "yes," and all of a sudden becomes aware of his own arousal roaring through him - it feels like he's been hard for hours, and he has to press himself to the mattress between Hannibal's splayed legs to alleviate some pressure. He quickly shucks off his robe and boxers, and when he looks back at the bed his heart falters in his chest. Hannibal is lying braced against his forearms, his hair hanging down into his eyes, and his hips are canted up. He's displaying himself to Will, who has to bite a knuckle to keep from weeping at the sight of all that soft, tanned skin being offered up like a buffet for his enjoyment. 

Will centers himself with difficulty. He can't just take and take and take, no matter how much he wants to, no matter how much Hannibal wants him to, even. This is, in a sense, their first real time experiencing such intimacy, and he will make damn sure they both enjoy it to the fullest.

And just like that, he's suddenly nervous. He's never been with a man before. Anal sex with women (something he's done a grand total of twice) has similarities in terms of the need to stretch and go slowly and use a lot of lube, but there's that extra something with men, and Will is experiencing performance anxiety at a very inopportune time. He's' aware that the silence has now gone on too long to ignore, when Hannibal flips onto his back and gazes up at him with a look of fond exasperation.

"Will," he says when they're face to face. "I realize quite fully that you have little experience in this area. Would you like me to prepare myself, or show you how?"

Will's cock jerks at the idea of further watching Hannibal work himself open to take Will inside him, but he wants to learn, so that he can practice - so that he can make it good, for Hannibal, "Show me," he breathes out.

Hannibal rustles in a bedside drawer and retrieves the lube, which he pours liberally over Will's finger and, surprisingly, his own.

"Wha-" Will stares down as Hannibal grasps his middle finger and begins teasing himself with it. Gentle touches and slight pressure. After awhile, Will's got the hang of it, and is enjoying the stuttered breathing from above him, when Hannibal takes his own finger and sinks it inside to the first knuckle. Will's eyes fly to his face in time to see his eyes flicker shut and a twist of pressure unfurl into something else completely. It's decadent. Hannibal thrusts that finger in for awhile, and then with a noticeable strain in his voice, he tells Will to add his own finger alongside. Will swallows, hard. He slides his finger slowly in beside Hannibal's and lets out a moan when they slide slick and smooth together into the tight heat of Hannibal's body. Above him, Hannibal lets out a bitten-off abortive whine at the feel of both of them inside him. He slides his own finger deeper, and Will follows him as he curves his finger in a beckoning gesture. At Hannibal's sudden gasp, and the way his hips jerk, he nudges Hannibal's finger out of the way so that he can rub gently, curiously, against the slightly raised rough spot inside him.

"Will," Hannibal gasps out, thrusting back against their combined fingers. "That's it. You can keep going from here. Add another finger." Hannibal slips his finger out and Will adds more lube and spends some time teasing Hannibal's rim with slick, tender touches just to listen to the changes in his breathing, his increasing desperate twitching, before he slides the second finger in to join the first, and rub gently at that spot inside him.

Hannibal moans louder, at this, and slurs out "You'll....you have to stretch me further before you keep doing that, unless you want this to be over before it begins. Scissor your fingers." Will does, trying to go gentle and slow, but Hannibal has clearly hit some internal breaking point and is pressing back against him with every thrust, making low keening noises and fisting the sheets. "A third, please, he manages, his voice almost subsonic now, gravelly and breathless. When Will inserts a third finger inside him he throws his head back and lets out a shout, shoving back hard. Only a few seconds of his and he's writhing and gasping "Enough. Enough. Inside me Wil, I need you...."

Will has fallen into such a trance watching this deeply erotic, wanton display that this sudden shift rockets him back into his own body and makes him fully aware of how close he is to the edge just from watching Hannibal in his pleasure. He groans, and grips the base of his cock tight to forestall any premature endings. He physically needs to be inside Hannibal at this moment - to feel that tight wet channel enclose. around him, to have part of Hannibal's body consume him in this way. He hurriedly slicks up his cock, and then grasps Hannibal by his ankles and flips him on hiss back, watching his engorged cock bounce against his belly and grinning slightly at the surprise that flickers momentarily across his slack face.

"I want to see you," He explains, and then lines himself up with Hannibal's entrance. He looks at Hannibal, gorgeous Hannibal, relaxed and open for him, eyes hooded in pleasure, breath coming in staccato bursts, and gently guides the head of his cock inside his hole. Both men moan and Will leans forward to capture Hannibal's mouth in a wet, enveloping kiss, pressing his knees further back and opening him up more. The feeling of being inside Hannibal is indescribable - it's nothing like having his mouth on him. Even with just the tip of his cock inside it is melting, molten, pulsing with inner life. "Are you ready?" He asks tenderly, stroking up Hannibal's thighs. Hannibal seems to have lost the power of speech, so he just nods, his eyes huge and wet and full of hunger and infinite adoration. Will takes a breath and slides in slowly but fully, bottoming out with a groan that seems to emanate from the very air around him. He stays bottomed out, trying to reign in his fast-encroaching orgasm, and feeling Hannibal's heartbeat racing from inside and out. "Fuck, Hannibal," he whispers.

"I know," Hannibal whispers back, still slurring his words, his eyes almost shut. "I know. Please, Beloved. Move."

Will takes a shuddering breath. "I'm not going to last," he bites out on a laugh.

"Nor will I," Hannibal mouths at his chin, his neck. And Will pulls back slowly, and thrusts in hard, jarring the bed against the wall and pulling an absolutely filthy sound from Hannibal. "Yess," Hannibal hisses, "show me, Will." So Will does it again, slow drag out, hard thrust in, and Hannibal wiggles under him, writhes, cants his hips more, and on the next thrust Will must hit home, because Hannibal actually shouts, body tensing, and his cock drips liberally onto his stomach. Will thrusts in again and then stays there, grinding in slow, agonizing shallow thrusts against that spot until Hannibal is rolling his head from side to side and spilling out words and sounds that aren't even remotely comprehensible, not English at leastg, and Will doubts they'd be comprehensible Lithuanian. The feel of Hannibal's inner walls clenching and unclenching uncontrollably around his cock has him hurtling towards the edge, and when he reaches for Hannibal's cock, Hannibal bats his hands away. "No," he chokes out, just like this. Come for me Will. Come inside me. Fill me up." 

And that's all she wrote for Will, as his orgasms whites out his vision and he comes harder and longer than he's ever evn imagined possible, shooting inside Hannibal as he watches in a sort of out-of-body experience as Hannibal comes all over his belly and chest without a single touch to his cock. Just the feelling of Will's seed inside him enough to tip him shaking and growling and keening with pure sensation until at last they're both limp.

Will doesn't know exactly how long they lay pressed together, only that when he returns to some semblance of normality, Hannibal is speaking gently to him and running soft fingers through his hair. 

He can just catch the words: "Will. My Will. My life. My true heart. I have never known happiness before now."

;;


End file.
